


don't you know i'm a fool for you?

by samsbestgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asshole OC - Freeform, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Dry Humping, Fights, Fluff, Getting Together, High School, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Loving Dean Winchester, M/M, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Pre-Canon, Romance, Schmoop, Shy Sam Winchester, Sibling Incest, Smitten Dean Winchester, discussion of bottom Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsbestgirl/pseuds/samsbestgirl
Summary: Dean Winchester's kind of a dick and can come across as harsh and tough as steel, aggressive and detached like he doesn't give a fuck what you think of him. You don't want to find yourself on his bad side though, that's for sure. Dean's a bad boy through and through.Except for when he's staring into Sam's eyes and you can see him practically melting.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 184





	don't you know i'm a fool for you?

**Author's Note:**

> This so fluffy, guys, I warn you. This is tooth-rotting fluff. 
> 
> So enjoy this self-indulgent piece of brotherly/not-so-brotherly schmoop!

Dean ruffles his little brother's hair fondly, a loving smile lighting up his whole face and sharpening his features. You could practically see his shoulders drop and that smile making him look even younger than he is. At eighteen, he should be smocking outside with the bikers or making out with a girl in one of the high school's closets. He shouldn't be spending his lunch break in the cafeteria beside his brother, telling him bad jokes and looking at him like he hangs the moon at night.

But Dean is not a normal student. He's not a normal guy, period. 

His upbringing had been harsh and heavy on his young shoulders, what with the way he had to care not only for himself but for his brother also. He had to learn how to cook, to figure out how to make money last longer than a week sometimes because John couldn't be bothered to leave them enough, to make time between his classes and the job he had to take so he could walk his brother home, meaning some shady ass motel they were finding themselves living in that particular week.

Maybe he should be resenting John for dumping everything on him, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, after all, John was the one who gave him Sam.

The light of his life. 

Sometimes he wonders what would have become of him had he not had Sam. But he can't entertain that thought long enough to receive an answer.

It is what it is and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Sam bats his hand away, a pink blush dotting his cheeks, and shakes his head to somehow rearrange his hair that is now sticking in every direction. Dean snickers, "Stop that! Your hair looks just fine now." 

Sam gives him one of his famous bitch faces and Dean retaliates with a smirk of his own, sticking out his tongue at his adorable brother. Sam huffs, mock aggravated, but ducks his head so he wouldn't be forced to look Dean in the eyes. 

Dean aches to just reach out and take hold of that pointy chin, to lift it up with a finger and caress his rosy cheek, to make Sam realize he doesn't have to hide from him. Never from him. But he settles himself with turning around on his seat and digging into that cold and disgusting pasta they call lunch. He makes a face and drops the whole thing back on his plate, pushing it away with a sigh. He can't wait to get back to the motel and cook Sam some eatable food. He deserves better than this cafeteria crap they're serving them. 

Not having anything else to do, he looks up at his baby, the one he raised, and just stares at him for a second. 

And he's proud.

Proud of the man Sammy's becoming. Proud that he had some contribution to that. 

He's beautiful. Dean can't find a more suitable world and he can't deny it either. That soft hair, the multi-colored eyes that seem to change colors depending on the weather, the muscles that are just starting to form on his lean frame, the mile-long legs. And Dean knows, he knows he shouldn't look at his brother like this. He knows it's not normal, but he can't stop.

He couldn't look away even if he wanted to. Cause why look away when everything you've ever wanted is sitting right in front of you?

He doesn't know when these thoughts started or, he wonders, maybe they've always been there, waiting to surface and suffocate him in their intensity. 

Sam will be gorgeous, hell, he already is and he's only fifteen. Dean can't even wrap his mind around the fact that people are gonna start noticing soon. And what then? How will he be able to watch his brother's attention stray from him and onto some other person as if they are somehow deserving of it. As if anyone would ever be worthy enough of his brother's affections.

As if they have a right.

Dean can't think like that. He wants to enjoy having Sam only to himself for a little while longer. He would deal with that when the time comes.

Sam makes a face while he's chewing on his meal and Dean chuckles, fighting the impulse to snatch his brother's elbow and take him far away from here. Somewhere they could be together and no one would judge them for it.

But no matter how much he wishes, he can't.

Dean shakes his head as if to clear it and leans back on his seat, spreading his legs shamelessly in front of him. He can't help but notice the place's packed today. The kids at the table next to theirs are laughing wantonly, treading stories and ignoring everyone else. Dean smiles, thinking it would be so easy to be normal, but if normal means he wouldn't have his brother, he doesn't want it. They can keep it.

He has his normal right next to him.

He feels a pair of eyes burning on the back of his head, his hunter's instincts kicking in and prompting him to turn around. He locks eyes with Logan, Amanda, and Ryan. Great. Exactly what he needed. He sighs and he wonders how he can avoid the awkward situation that's bound to happen. He feels Sam's stare on him and he turns his head to find him looking curiously between Dean and the popular trio. Dean gulps and winks at him, his own way of reassuring his brother that everything's gonna be alright.

Sam doesn't buy it for a second.

"Who are they?"

Dean racks his brain for a good excuse, something that will keep his brother from worrying, but he finds none. So he goes with the truth, "Just some people I shouldn't have messed with."

Amelia has been following him around for weeks now, ever since they started learning here, and the other day he'd finally had enough and snapped at her. He didn't mean to be rude, but the girl couldn't take no for an answer. Sure, she's pretty hot and any other guy would jump at the opportunity to have their way with her. Not his fault she's settled her sights on him.

That doesn't change the fact that Dean didn't want her. If you asked him, he'd tell you she just wasn't interesting enough for him, not much of a challenge what with the way she practically threw herself at his feet, but really, that's not the reason and Dean knows it. 

Maybe he's not man enough to admit it just yet.

"And what does that mean?" Sam's voice brings him back to the present, pulling him out of his musings, and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face to place his thoughts in order.

"Nothing. Eat your food, Sammy!" He tries to inflict some kind of heat into that order, but by the glare Sam sends his way he didn't succeed at all. "Don't be a brat and do as I say." This time Sam does look down at his half-empty plate, but not to continue eating, instead choosing to frown at his food like it's just insulted his entire existence by just being there.

Dean knew he fucked up.

"I'm... Crap!" He's wanted to say he was sorry but he didn't get the chance because Amelia and her two guardians were making their way over to their table and Dean was suddenly panicking, because _oh God, not in front of Sammy, not in front of his shy, sweet little brother_. 

Sam, startled, raises his eyes from his uneaten food just in time to notice the trio stopping in front of their two-person table. Dean swallows audibly and gets up from his chair so fast that the Earth starts spinning for a second, almost sending him face-planting on the freshly washed cafeteria floor. Losing his balance is the least of his problems, though. 

"Hey, guys!" He starts, too cheerful and entirely fake, even to his own years.

"What's our favorite newcomer doing? You've reduced yourselves to spending time with freshman now?" Ryan barks a laugh and Dean's hit with a powerful desire to punch that smug, self-entitled look off his face.

"Shut it, Ryan." He says because his survival instincts don't seem to be working today and he's just itching for a fight.

"What if he doesn't, Winchester?" Logan intervenes, poking Dean in the chest with a long, bony finger. Dean drops his gaze to that point of contact and clenches his fists to keep himself from doing something he'll regret.

"I suggest you back off," he advises instead because he's starting to lose his patience. The only thing keeping him rooted to the spot and taking their shit is Sam's presence behind him. His brother doesn't deserve this.

Logan snickers and turns to Amelia who's just watching the exchange silently, her arms crossed together over her breasts. He says something in her ear and she smirks, taking a step closer to Dean until she's standing right in front of him.

She graces him with a blank look as if she's a queen in some god-forsaken kingdom and him her royal servant. He can't stand people like her. "You know what, Dean?" she challenges. "I thought you were really nice at first, I mean, the way you act with your brother," and she points a manicured fingertip at Sam behind him, "but I was wrong, wasn't I? You're just as dull, boring and mean as the rest of them."

"So just because I told you no, I'm suddenly mean and boring? What happened to your crush then? Surely you couldn't have liked someone as plain as little old me?" He chuckles, wishing he was anywhere but here. He didn't need this shit.

Her eyes widen and Ryan steps in close, catching her arm and dragging her away from him as if she might catch something from sitting so close to him. Dean can't help but roll his eyes. These theatrics may work on anyone else but not on him. Logan steps back in his face, startling Dean and making him stumble a step backward. Dammit, he's getting pissed. 

"Watch your mouth!" 

By now, everyone's staring at them and Dean feels their eyes on the back of his neck, goosebumps breaking over his skin. He doesn't give a shit what they think of him, but if he doesn't play this right, Sam could become a target in his place - Dean knows high-school rules - and he can't have that. 

"Look, we can end this right now, no harm -" 

But he doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence because he catches Ryan moving from the corner of his eye and suddenly everything dissipates, ceases to exist, only blind, hot rage coiling in his gut.

Before Ryan can put a finger on Sam, Dean's got him pressed face down on the table, the disgusting pasta now lying discarded on the floor, his arm digging into Ryan's back in a painful manner, bruises probably already forming on his skin.

"You don't touch him! You don't even breathe in his direction!" He threatens, tone low and deadly as if dealing with one of the monsters they're hunting, and that's exactly what he's become when he's made a move toward Sammy. "Are we clear?" He shouts, the sound reverberating off the white walls and silencing anyone who wasn't already tuned in their little show.

Ryan just laughs, the fucker, and turns his head to look directly at Sam like Dean wasn't already a step away from beating him to a pulp just for trying to put his hands on his brother. 

Sam's face is pink with shame, a blush dotting his usually pale cheeks, and he's fidgetting with a loose thread from his shirt. Dean knows Sam doesn't like the attention, that he hates all these people looking at him. He wishes this didn't happen and guilt settles like a stone in the pit of his stomach because this is all his fault. Maybe if he'd tried harder, if...

If won't help them now.

It definitely won't help Ryan.

"Hey kid," Ryan taunts, "how about you ditch your brother and let us show you a good time? Bet you'd spread those long le-" He leers at Sam, his teeth showing, and that's it. The breaking point. 

The next few minutes pass in a blur for Dean who turned Ryan around on the table and, not caring about their audience or their surroundings, started going to town on Ryan. Fist after fist collided with Ryan's shocked face and continued to rain down on him with such force and intensity that later on Dean won't figure out how he didn't feel the pain of his knuckles splitting open or didn't hear the crack of Ryan's nose breaking. 

He could distantly hear Amelia screaming and footsteps running probably to call for a teacher, but he didn't care. "I hear you talking to my brother like that again, a broken nose will be the least of your problems." He sneered, landing another swift punch, this time on Ryan's ribs, not powerful enough to break one, but enough to hurt like a bitch. 

He lets go of Ryan's shirt and he slides down the table, landing in a bloody pile on the now stained floor. Dean lifts his gaze to see every pair of eyes in the room watching him, and most importantly his brother who has gotten closer to him sometime while Dean wasn't paying attention. He throws a glance at Ryan, conscious but breathing heavily and bleeding from his nose and various cuts on his face and turns to Dean with a soft look in his beautiful hazel eyes, taking his hands in his.

That's when Dean noticed the blood painting his still clenched fists. He lets his hands unclench in Sam's gentle grasp and tells him softly, "Don't worry. Doesn't hurt."

Sam throws him one of the bitch faces that Dean secretly adores and continues his inspection of the damage inflicted on Dean's hands. As if he's the one beaten within an inch of his life. Dean's whole body warms up with love and he practically melts seeing the care his baby brother's showing him. _Seems like the protectiveness goes both ways,_ Dean thinks distractedly. 

When the principal comes storming in, furious and looking for an explanation, Dean doesn't defend himself, lets her drag him to her office with no fuss, Sam clinging to him the entire way. They've tried getting him to stay in the cafeteria, but he wouldn't budge, clutching Dean's shirt in his fists. And Dean only wrapped an arm protectively around his waist and held him close, so they didn't have a choice but to allow him to come with. 

Dean threw a smirk over his shoulder at Amelia, "Don't compare yourself to Sam again. You're not him." And in his opinion, that said it all.

Later, after Dean got himself suspended and they arrived home, Sam covers both of his hands with ice bags, sitting down next to him on the queen-sized bed, shoulders hunched over and brows furrowed.

Dean bumps his shoulder with Sam's, making him look up questioningly. "Why the sour face?"

"Are you really asking me that?" Sam snaps and Dean's a little taken aback, not expecting the forcefulness coloring his voice. "Fuck's sake, Dean, why do you feel the need to do this to yourself? Was it so hard to pretend he didn't say anything and move on?"

"Yes, Sam! You're my brother, alright? He can't say shit like that about you and expect me to thank him."

"And so what, you start a fight and get yourself suspended?" Dean can see he's conflicted, caught between adoration and worry about Dean's well-being. Dean doesn't want Sam to worry about him. He wants him to worry about himself.

"So it didn't bother you that he was spewing crap about you in front of the whole school?" Dean says, a little harsher than he intended, but he's pissed off. He wants Sam to fight back, to not take everything people throw his way. That's not how you survive in life. The quicker he learns that, the better off he'll be. 

Sam ducks his head down, hiding his eyes behind his bangs, obstructing Dean's view of his face. So Dean gives in to his urges and places a finger below Sam's chin, the touch gentle and light, lifting it up so that Sam will be forced to look him in the eyes. 

"Don't hide from me, Sammy. Never from me." 

A tear slips down Sam's face, landing on Dean's fingers still holding Sam's face in his hands, and Dean can feel his own heart clench and the breath catching in his chest. "Please don't cry, baby. Please." Dean is not above begging when it comes to Sam. "Your eyes are too beautiful for tears." 

And he knows it's cheesy and others would call him a girl for talking like that, but this is Sammy he's speaking to. _His baby brother._

If he can't show his truest side to the love of his life, then what's the point?

Sam's eyes widen comically and what he does next will remain forever burned in Dean's memory. He surges up and covers Dean's chapped lips with his own soft ones. Dean's eyes slip closed almost of their own accord and his arm comes around to wrap around Sam's waist, bringing him closer to Dean. The kiss remains chaste because Dean can't process what's happening. When they split apart, Sam's got a beautiful flush going up to his neck and cheeks and Dean's smile could easily be compared to a thousand lighthouses because it's so bright. 

"I'm -" Sam goes to say but Dean silences him with a finger to his lips. Sam shuts up immediately and looks at that finger pressing over his mouth, swallowing nervously. Dean licks his lips and forsakes any thought of taking this slow, of talking about this, about whatever brought this on, because he can't think past the _Sammy kissed me_ matra that's playing on repeat in his mind. 

He rolls them on the matters, the ice bags falling with a dull thud on the floor, until Sam ends up on top of Dean, his body completely bracketing his. Dean cups his brother's face in his hands and gives him a real kiss, tongue sneaking inside to search for Sammy's taste. Kissing Sam is already addictive and Dean thinks this shouldn't be as hot as it is, but he's not complaining.

This is better than any fantasy he hasn't allowed himself to entertain.

He sneaks his hands beneath Sam's shirt, racking it up a fraction of an inch, caressing the naked baby-soft skin of his brother's back. His hands roam over every inch of Sam's flesh and when Sam moans in his mouth it gives Dean the impulse he needed to spread Sam's long legs apart with one of own, action that allowed him to feel his brother's hardness rubbing against his own denim-clad leg. 

He moans in Sam's mouth, his own dick throbbing with need in his pants. He didn't trust himself to pull it out. Sam's only fifteen, after all, he's not ready for more, not yet. He can feel Sam's hands sliding over his sides, gripping at his shirt with his fists and he continues to thurst against Sam, prompting his brother to hump his leg.

"Tell me this is what you want," Dean says in between kisses, wanting Sam to voice what Dean's been needing to hear since he started thinking about his brother this way. 

Sam looks at him incredulously and Dean stifles a laugh at seeing his brother's expression. He closes his eyes and bumps his nose with Sam's, giving him an Eskimo kiss as he used to when they were little. Dean can feel his brother smile in response to his actions and can't help but be a little proud that he's managed to wring one yet again from his baby brother's soft, plump lips. 

"I love you," says Sam simply and Dean's heart skips a beat. "And I want you. Any way I can have you. Seeing you fight for me like that... I wanted to kiss you and punch you both at the same time. You're such an idiot for putting your ass on the line for me, sometimes I want to slap you on your pretty face. But then I remember. You're _my_ idiot."

Dean lowers his mouth roughly on Sam's, his arms circling around his brother in a tight hold that has Sam gasping and keening against his lips. Dean shifts his hips so they're aligned with Sam's and starts dry humping him, rubbing his hard dick against his brother's erection. He can feel himself leaking in his pants but he can't bring himself to care, not when he has Sam sticking to him, his mouth in a brutal claim and his hips driving Dean wild in their thrusting. 

Much too soon, he can sense that warm feeling settling in his gut, the tell-tale sign he's going to come and works three times faster to bring his brother to the edge with him. Their cocks slide together through the fabric of their jeans and they moan in unison when the leaking shafts drag sweetly against each other. 

As if syncing up, they come almost at the same time, Sam first and Dean mere seconds behind. Dean groans while kissing Sam senseless, continuing the delicious friction they've created and riding the high from their mind-blowing orgasms. 

Breaths mingling, they pant heavily in each other's mouths and Dean makes a face at the feeling of his cum drying in his boxers briefs. Sam laughs, happy and contented and Dean tightens his arms around his brother, not ready to let him go, not even for the uncomfortable sensation of cum cooling in his pants and sticking to his skin. 

"I'll never stop protecting you, Sam. So if you really want me, then you'll have to learn how to deal with that."

"Jerk," Sam says, no heat behind his words, just a silly smile playing over his pink, kiss-swollen lips. 

"And you're my bitch." He chuckles, and Sam smacks him in the arm.

"You talk big, but I don't see any proof of that statement." He batts his eyelashes at Dean and it should be funny, but it's strangely seductive. Sam could just brush his teeth and Dean would think it's seductive.

Dean carefully considers Sam's words, "Baby... you're fifteen -"

"And I know what I want. I want you to be my first, Dean." 

Dean groans, his dick giving a feeble attempt at hardening yet again. "And I will, be sure of that. But I don't wanna hurt you, Sammy. I think we should wait just a little longer. You know, to make sure you're ready to take that step."

"Dee," Sam draws out his name and Dean pecks him quickly on the mouth, promptly distracting him.

"End of discussion. There's plenty more stuff to do besides the proper fucking, Sammy. Just you wait. We'll discover it together. And when the time comes... I'll take your V-Card. Believe me, I want it as much as you do, but at least wait until you're sixteen. Deal?"

Sam smiles tentatively at first, but when Dean holds up his pinkie, the smile stretches over Sam's lips and Sam lifts his own finger, uniting it with Dean's in a promise made of sin and love.

And when Dean reaches out and tangles a hand in Sam's hair, tugging gently, he leans down and whispers "I love you," in Sam's ear, like a secret prayer meant to be heard by his one and only.


End file.
